Post by Donnie Harris on Mar 4, 2023 11:12:51 GMT -5
-The opportunities have been pouring in for Donnie, win and lose; it was all the same. With the amount of fight in this dog, Donnie has been roughed up but always made to be the bigger star than he was walking in.
Whether it was the battle royal on the Massacre show prior to Illuminatus, the match against TLS, his match with Nickleman: Donnie was the one who got back up on his own two feet and made his way to the back, back past gorilla position, back into his locker room. However, with all the push he was getting, with all the strength he got to show post-match...
Why did it feel empty? Why did it feel lonely even? It was weird to have such a low opinion of himself, but it was safe to say the nightmares about “training” with his father weren’t helping.
The constant beating, the constant heightened exhaustion; the constant fear of the consequences of failure: Donnie was always left with a few bruises, and they were never because of the odd fall. His father was heavy-handed, and respect was something impressed upon Donnie’s needs from a very early age.
Even as he worked out, now back on the mainland after Illuminatus was done, the idea that he was finally looking back to see his father’s constant disappointment, was it because of his lack of ethic, becoming a pro wrestler rather than the prize fighter he was always expected to be?
Donnie had always pushed himself harder than someone should, giving his body much more time to rest than his father ever would have allowed, even as he was escorted off the property in handcuffs, his mother bearing a shiner that no one could justifiably ignore. Even after losing him, Donnie would keep training, keep beating himself up, figuratively through the arduous and punishing regimen; literally by whipping himself with a leather belt or smashing himself in the head with a piece of wood, like a stick or the odd 2x4, when he couldn’t get something right.
He knew what he had to deal with, he could see what was in front of him; he wasn’t going to let TLS get another chance to fuck around.-
(Random Man)
Hey, what’s the problem here!?
-Flash forward to Donnie having left the gym, so deep in thought that he was plugging up a grocery store line with only a bunch of bananas in his arm.-
)Donnie Harris(
Wait what?
(Random Man)
Are you going to pay for your many dates there or what?
-Donnie looked back and saw the crowd: a line of about five people plus him and the Ron Jeremy wannabe hassling him about the bananas.-
)Donnie Harris(
Sorry, I didn’t get everything.
-Pulling his hood over his head and leaving the bananas behind, instead of grabbing a shopping cart, Donnie just up and leaves the shopping center. It was embarrassing that he was so sucked up into his own head that he had no idea what he was doing. The match coming up, he had to get focused. He had to nail down what the fuck he was going to do.
He couldn’t be a disappointment, not again. He could blame the cold, the boat, the odd conditions, but he had a partner this time.
He had SYNN, the one who ended up getting the Oh Shit! contract in that battle royal pre-Illuminatus. She was going to expect more, push for more; achieve more. With the stipulation that the winners could bail on each other and pick another partner, that was unacceptable; Donnie being the weak link was going to be unacceptable.
Getting into his Lexus, Donnie could only sit down, put his seatbelt on, close the door and scream in furious despair. His next stop? He was going back to the gym, having spent four hours already, working his whole body.-
“To die would be a great adventure...”
-The video was grainy, the backdrop looking like a cheap wallpaper you’d see in a mediocre motel. The lights were so old that they looked more yellow than white. Sitting on a ratty couch was Donnie, over his head a cheap dollar store painting. He reclined into the couch, his feet up, a cheap camcorder trained on him, as if he was being interviewed for an old fashioned shoot.
He’s dressed as if it’s the 70’s: a cheap loungewear suit with popped collar on a too-colorful polyester shirt, khaki-colored slacks, with red crocodile shoes on the floor and white athletic socks on his feet. He looked every bit the scummy, seedy kind of pimp in cliches like Huggy Bear from Starsky & Hutch. The audio cuts in with him laughing, checking the time on his cheap Rolex knockoff watch, but it looked every bit as real as they did in that time period.-
)Donnie Harris(
So he calls himself a pimp, right? I had no idea, but I don’t think I could care even if he were to have told me himself. He’s just lucky that I could take advantage of a worn down Stranger, otherwise he would have nothing to his name, not even the bling that is the World Championship. However, it isn’t like that matters anymore, right? The cheap fuck lost it at Illuminatus, and now it’s some punk named Meyhu that holds it; what a laugh.
-As Donnie laughs, someone in the background can be heard clearing his throat.-
(Interviewer)
But Donnie, c’mon man, the guy’s probably gonna be feeding himself off a rager after losing so big. You think callin’ him out like this is going to help you?
)Donnie Harris(
Dude, I got the creepiest wrestler in this place since... well, I don’t know, but she’s something fierce. I didn’t get to really lock horns with her, but she took advantage of cooler cats than me, so the worst she can do is try to stab me in the back and I’ve dealt with seedier suckers than she.
-Donnie pivots on the couch, turning to face the interviewer, giving a better look into the camera.-
)Donnie Harris(
The fucker didn’t even hold the strap for half a year. There are champions in divisions that hold the belt for less, sure, but there are so many more that are turned into freaks of nature, hot commodities... they become the main attraction; Mr. Pimp in Charge can’t even be considered flushable. It’s like he has become no more than a used tampon: a bloody mess that is in dire need of being covered up and thrown away. He’s no use to anyone now, even after the time he spent resting up leading to Illuminatus, only to lose it all. What does that say about him? Paying for his sins, my white hairy ass. As decorated as he and Stranger like to consider themselves, raw talent is raw talent; potential is limitless. MY potential has yet to be truly tapped.
(Interviewer)
What about SYNN? What does she really have to offer you?
-Donnie just laughs as he leans back into the couch, stretching his arms out as he rests his right arm across the back.-
)Donnie Harris(
Quite frankly, that is up to her, and she knows I won’t carry her. She holds the Oh Shit contract; she was awarded the Most Underrated Wrestler of the Month in January. The woman is going to get into that ring with me, and she’s going to be herself: a rabid, unhinged, creepy as all fuck asskicker with only one thing in mind, and that’s dismantling PID and Stranger.
(Interviewer)
PID?
)Donnie Harris(
Pimp in Dispute: how can he be called a pimp, or even Pimp in Charge if a guy like Meyhu, whether he has won the Hall of Fame Championship or not, can come in after who knows how long, only to get pimp slapped back down to the minor league? Who the fuck does he think he is?
(Interviewer)
And The Lost Stranger?
)Donnie Harris(
What about him? I proved that he got lucky twice: first in beating me, because I stymied his attempt to dethrone the wrestler formerly known as PIC; second when he took advantage of me by distracting me from aiming for the big prize. Well, guess what? Marcus Welsh booked me in one of the biggest matches of my wrestling career, and I’ve been rocketing up the card after my hiatus ended. Nickleman couldn’t stop me; I’ve been destroying OCW’s beloved enhancement talent, and now all I need to do is avenge my losses. First one in the queue just happens to be The Lost Stranger, and then from there, the sky’s honestly the limit.
(Interviewer)
Why is it that no one addresses you in their promotional material anyway? PIC had the chance to, and there was only mention of your name.
)Donnie Harris(
They underestimate the raw talent I possess, my friend. They’re confident in their abilities, which is fine, but it’s to their downfall, as they will have to come face-to-face with the fact that they’ll regret stepping over me in their minds. I’m beyond capable of crushing them, each and every one of them. Stranger mentioned school when he faced me, and, well, I showed him that I’ve learned enough to hold my ground against the top talent that OCW has. On my side, I’ve got the awesomely unhinged SYNN to back me up; I’ll have her back too, because we have quite the challenge ahead of us. I did some digging, did some research, made sure to do my due diligence...
-Donnie sighs, looking down his arm, swallowing a large wad of saliva and phlegm. After a moment of pause, he looks back to the man behind the camcorder.-
)Donnie Harris(
Lady’s had it rough, and I can relate to that; I can even sympathize with that. There are some skeletons in our closet that we’ve probably traded back and forth without even realizing it, which makes me want to try harder, for her, to give her another win to stuff down her corset or whatever the fuck she uses to mark her victories. It’s not that I want to do right by her, because she does this all for herself and she deserves what she gets; what she doesn’t get, she’ll just have to work that much harder for it, and knowing a bit about her, as much as I can gather, I’ll be damned if I don’t give her my all, from one athlete to another.
(Interviewer)
That’s all touching and stuff, Donnie, but what does it really mean for this tag team match?
-Donnie cocks an eyebrow, as if either the interviewer didn’t understand or he was too busy with his thumb up his ass to pay attention; it pissed Donnie off.-
)Donnie Harris(
Oh, I don’t know, you fuckwit. Last I heard, in my own words, I was planning on knocking the pimp down a few more notches and showing him what a real pimp hand looks and feels like. Last time I checked, I owe The Lost Stranger another reason to watch his back because he caught me twice without looking, and I’m not going to take that lying down. I have a tag team partner that is capable of and prepared to clutch victory. I do know that this all makes a big difference in the grand scheme, and that’s why Marcus fucking put us together in this match. SYNN, I’m looking right at you.
-Donnie looks right into the camcorder, within inches of the lens but enough to frame his face.-
)Donnie Harris(
You sandbag me, and I’ll make you suffer. You throw me to the wolves, and I’ll tear you to pieces. You hold me back in any way, shape or form, and I’ll wreck your contract cash-in the same way I fucked over TLS. HOWEVER, I know you won’t just fuck with me. I know you won’t mess up what we’ve got set in front of us. This is a thin tag team division, and Bifford and Beast need to recognize that they’re up against talented athletes in the two of us. PIC the former champion and TLS the wannabe champion are in our way, lady; let’s fuck’em up, and let’s go crazy.
-Donnie gets to his feet and slips his shoes back on, and, just before the recording is turned off, Donnie delivers a devastating front kick to the interviewer’s chest. He can be heard coughing and sputtering, Donnie standing over him.-
)Donnie Harris(
NEVER FUCKING IGNORE ME, BITCH! You’re talking to one-half of the future tag team champions and the future Massacre Champion!
-Donnie presses the red button and the scene cuts to black.-
Whether it was the battle royal on the Massacre show prior to Illuminatus, the match against TLS, his match with Nickleman: Donnie was the one who got back up on his own two feet and made his way to the back, back past gorilla position, back into his locker room. However, with all the push he was getting, with all the strength he got to show post-match...
Why did it feel empty? Why did it feel lonely even? It was weird to have such a low opinion of himself, but it was safe to say the nightmares about “training” with his father weren’t helping.
The constant beating, the constant heightened exhaustion; the constant fear of the consequences of failure: Donnie was always left with a few bruises, and they were never because of the odd fall. His father was heavy-handed, and respect was something impressed upon Donnie’s needs from a very early age.
Even as he worked out, now back on the mainland after Illuminatus was done, the idea that he was finally looking back to see his father’s constant disappointment, was it because of his lack of ethic, becoming a pro wrestler rather than the prize fighter he was always expected to be?
Donnie had always pushed himself harder than someone should, giving his body much more time to rest than his father ever would have allowed, even as he was escorted off the property in handcuffs, his mother bearing a shiner that no one could justifiably ignore. Even after losing him, Donnie would keep training, keep beating himself up, figuratively through the arduous and punishing regimen; literally by whipping himself with a leather belt or smashing himself in the head with a piece of wood, like a stick or the odd 2x4, when he couldn’t get something right.
He knew what he had to deal with, he could see what was in front of him; he wasn’t going to let TLS get another chance to fuck around.-
(Random Man)
Hey, what’s the problem here!?
-Flash forward to Donnie having left the gym, so deep in thought that he was plugging up a grocery store line with only a bunch of bananas in his arm.-
)Donnie Harris(
Wait what?
(Random Man)
Are you going to pay for your many dates there or what?
-Donnie looked back and saw the crowd: a line of about five people plus him and the Ron Jeremy wannabe hassling him about the bananas.-
)Donnie Harris(
Sorry, I didn’t get everything.
-Pulling his hood over his head and leaving the bananas behind, instead of grabbing a shopping cart, Donnie just up and leaves the shopping center. It was embarrassing that he was so sucked up into his own head that he had no idea what he was doing. The match coming up, he had to get focused. He had to nail down what the fuck he was going to do.
He couldn’t be a disappointment, not again. He could blame the cold, the boat, the odd conditions, but he had a partner this time.
He had SYNN, the one who ended up getting the Oh Shit! contract in that battle royal pre-Illuminatus. She was going to expect more, push for more; achieve more. With the stipulation that the winners could bail on each other and pick another partner, that was unacceptable; Donnie being the weak link was going to be unacceptable.
Getting into his Lexus, Donnie could only sit down, put his seatbelt on, close the door and scream in furious despair. His next stop? He was going back to the gym, having spent four hours already, working his whole body.-
“To die would be a great adventure...”
-The video was grainy, the backdrop looking like a cheap wallpaper you’d see in a mediocre motel. The lights were so old that they looked more yellow than white. Sitting on a ratty couch was Donnie, over his head a cheap dollar store painting. He reclined into the couch, his feet up, a cheap camcorder trained on him, as if he was being interviewed for an old fashioned shoot.
He’s dressed as if it’s the 70’s: a cheap loungewear suit with popped collar on a too-colorful polyester shirt, khaki-colored slacks, with red crocodile shoes on the floor and white athletic socks on his feet. He looked every bit the scummy, seedy kind of pimp in cliches like Huggy Bear from Starsky & Hutch. The audio cuts in with him laughing, checking the time on his cheap Rolex knockoff watch, but it looked every bit as real as they did in that time period.-
)Donnie Harris(
So he calls himself a pimp, right? I had no idea, but I don’t think I could care even if he were to have told me himself. He’s just lucky that I could take advantage of a worn down Stranger, otherwise he would have nothing to his name, not even the bling that is the World Championship. However, it isn’t like that matters anymore, right? The cheap fuck lost it at Illuminatus, and now it’s some punk named Meyhu that holds it; what a laugh.
-As Donnie laughs, someone in the background can be heard clearing his throat.-
(Interviewer)
But Donnie, c’mon man, the guy’s probably gonna be feeding himself off a rager after losing so big. You think callin’ him out like this is going to help you?
)Donnie Harris(
Dude, I got the creepiest wrestler in this place since... well, I don’t know, but she’s something fierce. I didn’t get to really lock horns with her, but she took advantage of cooler cats than me, so the worst she can do is try to stab me in the back and I’ve dealt with seedier suckers than she.
-Donnie pivots on the couch, turning to face the interviewer, giving a better look into the camera.-
)Donnie Harris(
The fucker didn’t even hold the strap for half a year. There are champions in divisions that hold the belt for less, sure, but there are so many more that are turned into freaks of nature, hot commodities... they become the main attraction; Mr. Pimp in Charge can’t even be considered flushable. It’s like he has become no more than a used tampon: a bloody mess that is in dire need of being covered up and thrown away. He’s no use to anyone now, even after the time he spent resting up leading to Illuminatus, only to lose it all. What does that say about him? Paying for his sins, my white hairy ass. As decorated as he and Stranger like to consider themselves, raw talent is raw talent; potential is limitless. MY potential has yet to be truly tapped.
(Interviewer)
What about SYNN? What does she really have to offer you?
-Donnie just laughs as he leans back into the couch, stretching his arms out as he rests his right arm across the back.-
)Donnie Harris(
Quite frankly, that is up to her, and she knows I won’t carry her. She holds the Oh Shit contract; she was awarded the Most Underrated Wrestler of the Month in January. The woman is going to get into that ring with me, and she’s going to be herself: a rabid, unhinged, creepy as all fuck asskicker with only one thing in mind, and that’s dismantling PID and Stranger.
(Interviewer)
PID?
)Donnie Harris(
Pimp in Dispute: how can he be called a pimp, or even Pimp in Charge if a guy like Meyhu, whether he has won the Hall of Fame Championship or not, can come in after who knows how long, only to get pimp slapped back down to the minor league? Who the fuck does he think he is?
(Interviewer)
And The Lost Stranger?
)Donnie Harris(
What about him? I proved that he got lucky twice: first in beating me, because I stymied his attempt to dethrone the wrestler formerly known as PIC; second when he took advantage of me by distracting me from aiming for the big prize. Well, guess what? Marcus Welsh booked me in one of the biggest matches of my wrestling career, and I’ve been rocketing up the card after my hiatus ended. Nickleman couldn’t stop me; I’ve been destroying OCW’s beloved enhancement talent, and now all I need to do is avenge my losses. First one in the queue just happens to be The Lost Stranger, and then from there, the sky’s honestly the limit.
(Interviewer)
Why is it that no one addresses you in their promotional material anyway? PIC had the chance to, and there was only mention of your name.
)Donnie Harris(
They underestimate the raw talent I possess, my friend. They’re confident in their abilities, which is fine, but it’s to their downfall, as they will have to come face-to-face with the fact that they’ll regret stepping over me in their minds. I’m beyond capable of crushing them, each and every one of them. Stranger mentioned school when he faced me, and, well, I showed him that I’ve learned enough to hold my ground against the top talent that OCW has. On my side, I’ve got the awesomely unhinged SYNN to back me up; I’ll have her back too, because we have quite the challenge ahead of us. I did some digging, did some research, made sure to do my due diligence...
-Donnie sighs, looking down his arm, swallowing a large wad of saliva and phlegm. After a moment of pause, he looks back to the man behind the camcorder.-
)Donnie Harris(
Lady’s had it rough, and I can relate to that; I can even sympathize with that. There are some skeletons in our closet that we’ve probably traded back and forth without even realizing it, which makes me want to try harder, for her, to give her another win to stuff down her corset or whatever the fuck she uses to mark her victories. It’s not that I want to do right by her, because she does this all for herself and she deserves what she gets; what she doesn’t get, she’ll just have to work that much harder for it, and knowing a bit about her, as much as I can gather, I’ll be damned if I don’t give her my all, from one athlete to another.
(Interviewer)
That’s all touching and stuff, Donnie, but what does it really mean for this tag team match?
-Donnie cocks an eyebrow, as if either the interviewer didn’t understand or he was too busy with his thumb up his ass to pay attention; it pissed Donnie off.-
)Donnie Harris(
Oh, I don’t know, you fuckwit. Last I heard, in my own words, I was planning on knocking the pimp down a few more notches and showing him what a real pimp hand looks and feels like. Last time I checked, I owe The Lost Stranger another reason to watch his back because he caught me twice without looking, and I’m not going to take that lying down. I have a tag team partner that is capable of and prepared to clutch victory. I do know that this all makes a big difference in the grand scheme, and that’s why Marcus fucking put us together in this match. SYNN, I’m looking right at you.
-Donnie looks right into the camcorder, within inches of the lens but enough to frame his face.-
)Donnie Harris(
You sandbag me, and I’ll make you suffer. You throw me to the wolves, and I’ll tear you to pieces. You hold me back in any way, shape or form, and I’ll wreck your contract cash-in the same way I fucked over TLS. HOWEVER, I know you won’t just fuck with me. I know you won’t mess up what we’ve got set in front of us. This is a thin tag team division, and Bifford and Beast need to recognize that they’re up against talented athletes in the two of us. PIC the former champion and TLS the wannabe champion are in our way, lady; let’s fuck’em up, and let’s go crazy.
-Donnie gets to his feet and slips his shoes back on, and, just before the recording is turned off, Donnie delivers a devastating front kick to the interviewer’s chest. He can be heard coughing and sputtering, Donnie standing over him.-
)Donnie Harris(
NEVER FUCKING IGNORE ME, BITCH! You’re talking to one-half of the future tag team champions and the future Massacre Champion!
-Donnie presses the red button and the scene cuts to black.-